It's Forgotten
by NairobiWonders
Summary: This is a sequel to "Did Not" (which was a prequel to "Never Happened") ... So this is a sequel to the prequel. Joanlock of course.


The feelings were still with her when she woke - sadness, an uneasiness, a sense of foreboding that gnawed at her. This sudden trip of Sherlock's set off old anxieties and she didn't understand why. Joan just knew she was concerned and did not want him to go. She spoke up last night over dinner, asking him to reconsider the trip, but he waved her off and changed the subject.

Sherlock came up the stairs wearing a suit, shirt and tie in varying shades of grey. He set his valise down by the front door where Joan stood clenching and unclenching her hands waiting for him.

"You sure you have everything?" Joan controlled the fear in her voice for his sake.

"Of course." Sherlock noted her tenseness.

"Passport, tickets, handkerchief ... .

He patted his jacket, "Yes, yes, and ... no."

Joan moved quickly to her purse, rummaged for a handkerchief. "I always keep an extra one ..."

"Watson, what is wrong? Are you still concerned about my traveling?"

Coming back to him, she folded the handkerchief and carefully placed it in his jacket's breast pocket, patting it down and momentarily letting her hand stay there, over his heart. Joan was practically vibrating with anxiety. Sherlock, not knowing what else to do to calm and reassure her, brought his hand up over hers and kept it there, rubbing the back of her hand ever so slightly with his palm. Her hand was cold; she would not meet his gaze as he talked.

"Why are you so anxious about this trip? Hmm? I've traveled, we've both traveled on our own before. This is no different." Sherlock tried his best to allay her fears.

"You're traveling into the Middle East, alone and ... I don't know, the unrest, you're a British citizen and ... I know, I'm not making sense, but I'm just concerned ... " her voice trailed off in embarrassment at how childish she sounded.

"I'm traveling to Saudi Arabia to meet a client with whom I've worked on previous occasions, a man high up in the government. You needn't worry." As they spoke the space between them diminished; the tone of their voices became intimate and soft, his hand still lay over hers on his chest. Watson looked up into his eyes.

"I know, I know ... just be careful, please ... for my sake ..." the last of her words were whispered. Sherlock's hand found its place at her waist. Joan moved her face up to his. A small dance of incremental movements brought them closer, face, nose, lips gently moving, almost caressing. The moment was quiet save for their breathing and the faint sound of early morning traffic just beyond the door.

Joan bravely brought her hand to his cheek and guided him to her. Receiving the permission he'd been waiting for, he joined her parted lips to his and pulled her to him. Joan's hand moved to the back of his neck, her fingers tracking through his short hair to bring him even closer. Unlike the gentle, sleepy kisses shared many months ago, kisses each had ferreted away and stored carefully in memory, the kiss they now shared was fed by need and fear of loss and deepened quickly into passion. Pulling apart only for the necessity of breath, their eyes briefly engaged, lips rejoining with urgency. His mouth began trail it's way down her neck. She grabbed at him ...

The two sharp explosive blasts of the taxi horn jarred them apart and back to the cold morning light of reality.

Their breathing ragged, they stood barely able to look at each other.

"I'd better go."

She nodded, as he picked up his bag. "Have a safe trip."

His turn to nod. "I'll call you as soon as I arrive." Sherlock turned and opened the door to go.

Watson took hold of his arm and stopped him, "... Take care." She reached up and placed one last kiss on his cheek and he stood wanting to stay with her one second longer.

The taxi horn blared again and he turned and walked out the door.

In the back seat of the taxi, Sherlock sat afraid of what had just happened. He took his phone out and texted her.

S: U alright.

W: Yes. U?

S: Yes.

W: Lost control. Won't happen again.

He stared at the last text wanting to tell her it could happen a million times over and it wouldn't be enough.

S: Good to lose control every so often. We OK?

W: Yes.

When next they met, the incident was "forgotten."


End file.
